adventures in the recent war.

After all the prescribed topics had been discussed and the farewells
had been said, Yuki San retained a vague impression of a small,
middle-aged man, with many medals on his breast, who looked at her
with kind, unsmiling eyes.

It was not till after the simple evening meal that Yuki San found the
chance to slip away to the little upper room which had been Merrit's
for two months. Nothing there had been touched, for the old mother
claimed that to set a room in order too soon after a guest's departure
was to sweep out all luck with him.

The girl entered and stood, a ghostly image, in the soft and tender
light of the great autumn moon as it lay against the paper doors and
filled the tiny room. Through the half-light Yuki San saw many touches
of the late inmate's personality. A discarded tie hung limply from a
hook on the wall, a half-smoked cigar and a faded white rose lay side
by side on the low table.

From the garden the sad call of a night-bird, with its oft-repeated
wail, seemed to voice her loneliness, and with a sob she sank upon her
knees beside the cot. Long she lay in an abandonment of grief, beating
futile wings against the bars of fate. At last, throwing out her arms,
she touched a small object beneath the pillow. Drawing it toward her,
she took it to the open _shoji_, and by the bright moonlight she saw a
small morocco note-book. She puzzled over the strange figures on the
first few pages, but from the small pocket on the back cover she drew
forth a picture that neither confused nor surprised. It was the girl
Merrit had told her about--the girl to whom he was going so joyously.

It was a face full of the gladness of life and love, whose laughing
eyes looked straight into Yuki San's with such a challenge of
friendship and good will that the girl smiled back at the picture and
laid it gently against her warm cheek.

She sought out each detail of hair and dress as she held it for closer
inspection, then replacing it in the pocket she said softly:

"He have the big, big love for you. You give him the happy. I close my
heart about you."

On the back of the book in letters of gold she spelled out the strange
word, "Diary." She puzzled for a moment, then she remembered where she
had seen it before. The young American teacher had written in just
such a book, and when she asked its meaning, the teacher had said it
was her best friend, her confidant, to whom she told her secrets